


A Little Death

by signifier



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, charming gavin is my favourite gavin, give ryan a break, have i done freewood before?, immortal au, major character death but not really, mentions of lindsay - Freeform, the corpirate makes an appearance, tw descriptions of violence, tw lots of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifier/pseuds/signifier
Summary: When a man breaks into Ryan's apartment, he kills him and thinks nothing of it - until that same man breaks in three days later.-Ryan’s stomach drops. It’s a smile so charming it’s like a punch to the gut. There’s an amusement to it, so incredibly cocky as he stands alone facing three clearly armed men, the smile drawn up on one side. He’s the complete opposite to Ryan; bright colours and expensive accessories, but Ryan can’t help but appreciate the aesthetic.When he brings a hand up to remove his glasses, head bowing down to do so, his fingers are covered in equally as gold rings. He tucks the folded pair into his shirt pocket before looking back up.Ryan’s stomach drops a second time.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones
Comments: 30
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> u ever accidentally write the a chapter for a new fic at 4am??

It starts with a man breaking into Ryan’s apartment.

They’re young, fair hair with the way the moonlight hits it and so incredibly inexperienced Ryan wonders what they had hoped to achieve in the first place. Probably just hadn’t expected to end up in the apartment of a hired gun; unluckily for them.

He hears the window break at 2:03am. By 2:57am Ryan’s tucked back in bed – intruder dead and nicely packed up to be dealt with in the morning. When he wakes, earlier than normal for a particular job he was to run, he disposes of the body and thinks nothing of it.

Two days go by and in a cloud of meetings and hits Ryan’s forgotten all about it.

Until the third night, when another man breaks in. Ryan hears the window go, takes the silenced pistol from the dresser and _thinks who the fuck is sending these people to rob me?_

He creeps down the hallway, hears a thud and a British ‘fuck’ from his living room before entering. The break-in is young, sprawled on the floor with one foot caught in the drawstring of the blinds that cover the window. He’s staring at Ryan like a deer caught in headlights. His hair is fair; moonlight hitting it just right.

Ryan shoots him point blank in the chest.

From this close of a range, the intruder doesn’t last long. He has the time to gasp, look up at Ryan absolutely horrified, before his head falls back and his eyes stare up unseeing at the ceiling. His foot slips from where it was caught and hits the floor with a heavy thud.

He turns the lights on, looks down at the body on his floor and the slowly spreading pool of blood that creeps closer to the edge of his favourite rug.

The resemblance between this man and the one who broke in a few nights ago is uncanny. _Could be uncanny_ , he thinks, because it had been dark that night and he hadn’t looked much at the other mans face that night and he was incredibly tired and on edge from being potentially robbed that night. But he’d seen his face the next morning, had stared at it for a little while and wondered where this kid had come from before shutting the trunk of his car and driving to his favourite spot. They were identical.

Ryan shifts the rug with his foot, creases it awkwardly in a way that means the blood wont reach it and goes back to bed. He doesn’t sleep for hours.

When he wakes there’s a brief grace period where he believes he dreamt the whole thing, but heading towards the kitchen for coffee and spotting the pale body and brown, drying blood on his floor confirms otherwise.

It’s even more unsettling in the light of day.

Ryan’s positive it’s the same guy, wonders if some crew he pissed off had hired twins as he drinks his coffee before his brain lands on _doppelgangers_. He abandons that thought just as quickly as it came to him.

Getting the body into his car is no trouble with the area he lives in. It’s an awful neighbourhood, one he picked so he could go about his business without having to play the innocent and charming next door neighbour. He’s seen shootouts in the carpark, hears domestics daily. He watched a man stab another 17 times from the luxury of his living room window. He’d counted.

The drive is normal, but somehow this body feels heavier. Ryan nods at the cops (a little interaction he found highly amusing whenever he did it) and smiles at the women who smile at him before turning right and completing a complicated path to reach his destination. The roads are full of twists, dead ends and abandoned buildings that are sure to have anyone who accidentally gets too far turning around as soon as possible.

It’s a quiet area, unknown of apart from to the right people who know who to ask. Chances are that the only people you come across will be performing the same tasks you are. It’s a don’t ask don’t tell type of place. These type of spots were rare, but appreciated when it came to Los Santos, and Ryan had always been grateful of their existence.

He’s alone when he parks next to a small field he’s made his own. It’s a particularly out of the way spot, with a few graves lined up in perfectly neat rows. If the LSPD were ever to find it, Ryan likes to think they’d appreciate his pattern.

Exiting the car and rounding to reach the trunk, Ryan can’t help but notice something different about his lines. There’s an already dug grave with it’s pile of dirt to the right of it. It was in the same column and row Ryan had buried the first robber in. He edges closer, heart beating a little fast as he peers over the edge. It’s empty, as if nothing ever occupied it’s space.

‘That’s.. _what the fuck_. That’s fine.’

It’s a fast process from then.

The hole is already dug, much to Ryan’s appreciative horror, so all he has to do is take the freak doppelganger of the now missing and very much not dead man he killed, place them gently, but hurriedly, in the grave and fill it in. What usually takes him all morning only takes a couple of hours. Then he’s piling back in his car and trying very hard not to floor it to get out of there.

He returns to his apartment, doesn’t have a job until much later so he spends the rest of the day getting the blood out of his floorboards; a task that reminds him of its difficulty every time he has to do it. By the time he’s finished and has to leave, it’s mostly out, but there will definitely be a darker patch of wood in its place. He changes his outfit, grabs his gun and slips a knife into his boot before heading for the door.

The job is a simple one – one of the easy ones he enjoyed, as all he had to do was stand in the background of a meeting and look intimidating.

The man who had hired him called himself the Corpirate – the boss of a slowly rising crew in LS. Ryan had heard of him a few times when working with other crews or listening into conversations. He was someone Ryan had no interest in being on the wrong side of. They were to be having a quieter meeting on no mans land; a long strip of dirt road with no buildings to snipe from in sight, just simple open grass. All Ryan knew was they were to talk to the frontman of another rising crew, smaller, that Ryan hadn’t heard much about.

When he pulls up, there’s a single black range rover waiting for him. He knew it was the Corpirate’s due to the number plate. Ryan parks, steps out and comes to stand by his side.

‘James.’ The man nods at him.

A fake name. One could never truly trust the people they worked for in Los Santos. Ryan nods back, makes sure his gun can be seen in the waistband of his jeans before taking his position. He crosses his arms behind his back; a protective stance that he knows makes his arms pop.

No more than a few minutes later is another car pulling up. It’s also black, a model Ryan doesn’t know as he isn’t one for cars, but just as nice as the range rover. It parks. A man steps out; alone.

He’s dressed in a silk shirt that’s half tucked into his pants, unbuttoned one too many down his chest and a pocket on the left side. A pair of golden sunglasses that match his golden hair in the sun are perched on his face. Ryan half suspects they’re Gucci. He looks from the Corpirate to Ryan to the other hired gun the Corpirate has on his right side before looking back to the Corpirate once more. Then he smiles.

Ryan’s stomach drops. It’s a smile so charming it’s like a punch to the gut. There’s an amusement to it, so incredibly cocky as he stands alone facing three clearly armed men, the smile drawn up on one side. He’s the complete opposite to Ryan; bright colours and expensive accessories, but Ryan can’t help but appreciate the aesthetic.

When he brings a hand up to remove his glasses, head bowing down to do so, his fingers are covered in equally as gold rings. He tucks the folded pair into his shirt pocket before looking back up.

Ryan’s stomach drops a second time.

‘Gentlemen,’ he greets, confidence leaking from his British accent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Ryan's looking at Gavin Free's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is set pre-fahc. the vagabond is yet to exist nd ryan is a simple hired gun without the mask.  
> im gonna try nd update as much as i can!

The meeting gets them nowhere. Or, maybe it does but Ryan’s more focused on keeping his expression steady than actually paying any attention. He spends his time studying the man.

He’s on the shorter side, compared to Ryan at least, but his hair sticks up in ways that make him seem taller. Blue or green eyes, Ryan can’t tell without being up close, but they’re bright. There’s a glint in them that makes you want to smile at whatever he’s saying. He’s likeable; charming and genuine despite the cocky persona that first hits you.

He’s alive, that’s for sure, and there certainly isn’t a bullet sized hole in his chest.

The frontman is made up of offers and deals; his words spinning webs of golden thread. Ryan knows empty promises when he sees them. The Corpirate must see it too, as he shuts down any and all ideas the man produces – Ryan suspects the only deal he’s looking for is one where he gets everything.

In the end, the Corpirate is the one to finish it. He shakes his head, puts a hand out to stop the flow of the frontman’s words.

‘I’m afraid this isn’t going to work. I appreciate your time and generosity, but I’ll get what I want through other means.’ For all the politeness of his tone, there’s something darker in his words.

The frontman smiles, hasn’t stopped doing that since he got here actually, and nods.

‘I’m sure you’ll try.’

Ryan’s pretty sure that’s an insult. Is positive it is when the lad smirks, nods at the man to the Corpirate’s right and then turns his gaze to Ryan.

‘If you ever feel like working for someone whose actually going to get somewhere - find The Kingpin.’ He even has the audacity to wink.

Ryan’s torn between being so incredibly disturbed that the attention of the man he’s killed twice is now on him, and fighting down the flush he can feel creeping up his neck.

Then the man is putting his sunglasses on and getting back into his car.

It’s not long after that that Ryan is safely back behind his own steering wheel. He’s alone in no mans land, allowing himself a pause to just grip his wheel and try hard not to scream. Los Santos was a weird place; people often got away with things unheard of, but Ryan knew nobody had ever come back from the dead. Not twice _. Doppelgangers_ pushes it’s way to the front of his mind once more. _Resurrection, triplets, immortalit- fuck off._

Ryan makes a call.

‘Hey beautiful,’ Meg answers, voice a sweet reassurance that at least something is normal.

‘Hey. I need you to find me everything you can about someone calling themselves the Kingpin.’

Two hours later and Ryan’s standing near his line of graves. Once again, there’s an empty one.

The Kingpin, Meg tells him, is a myth of a man that’s been in Los Santos for ridiculously long. It’s always been a known alias, she says, but nobodies seen him until recently. Dark hair, heavily tatted and always dressed to the nines. Ryan thinks of the frontmans expensive outfit. He’s building a crew, slowly, with only three current members. There’s a driver, incredibly skilled in most vehicles and nobody can tell if it’s a man or woman; having never seen them before. There’s rumours they’re already dead, died in a horrific crash, and that the Kingpin is just using their story. Then there’s the frontman.

Gavin Free; most of his history can be found in British books, but he’s more than just a myth, unlike his crewmates. He’s the only one you see, the only one you talk to, and chances are you’re never talking to the same man as someone else has with the amount of personas he plays. There’s sightings of him going back centuries.

‘Gotta be a family tradition or something, y’know, every male has to name their son Gavin. He’s probably Gavin the 18th. And, God, the family genes are insane-‘

Ryan’s stopped listening. He’s too busy staring at the photo Meg sent, because that’s the frontman, or Gavin, dressed in an old suit in a photograph that’s dated to be from the 1880s. He downloads it and places the phone back to his ear.

‘Ryan?’

‘What?’

‘Are you okay? Kinda zoned out there,’ Meg questions, and Ryan can picture her doubting smile.

‘I’m fine. It’s,’ he sighs, ‘it’s been a long day. Listen, I gotta go but thanks for all this.’

‘Sure.’

He hangs up, takes one more long look into the grave. It’s dark out now, enough that the pit begins to look more and more like a void. Ryan takes a step back, shakes his head and goes back to his car.

The iridescent lights flicker past him in a pattern of orange and purple as he drives. Ryan’s always enjoyed driving at night in this city, likes the way time seems to stop for a moment. Surprisingly, most crime happens during the day here. The criminals of Los Santos go big, and they like an audience, making it almost safer to be out in the dark. That doesn’t make the night completely crime free, though. Darkness provides cover, making quick muggings and murders in the shadows a common activity when the sun goes down.

Ryan could drive for hours, and would have, if he wasn’t low on gas.

He pulls into a station, fills up his tank with a practiced ease and walks in to pay. The whole process takes about 7 minutes, and Ryan exits the building with a chilled diet coke in hand.

There’s a fight going on to his right.

It’s right at the entrance of the alley next to the station, and less of a fight really, with three men battering the one guy on the floor.

‘Hey!’ He shouts, making a steady walk towards the group, because sure, he’s killed people, but that doesn’t make him completely heartless. He can see the odds of three on one.

One of the men looks in his direction, must be the genius of the gang, as he pulls one of his friends by the sleeve and takes off running. The third guy promptly follows. Ryan’s secretly glad to know he can look intimidating with a can of drink in his hand.

The man on the floor groans softly and presses a hand to his stomach, curling into himself.

‘Uh, you good?’ Ryan asks, a little foolish when the answer is perfectly clear.

A thumbs up shoots into the air. ‘Top.’

The voice makes him freeze, diet coke can almost slipping through his fingers due to the condensation.

‘Good,’ Ryan repeats, hoping the awkward strain of his voice isn’t noticeable with Gavin’s current distraction. He backs up a little before turning to leave.

‘Help a bloke up would you?’

Ryan screws his eyes up in a pained expression before turning back around.

Gavin’s on his back, one hand outstretched while the other still hugs his stomach. He’s got his head turned towards Ryan and a few pieces of fly away hairs in his eyes.

Wordlessly, Ryan approaches and grips Gavin’s hand, pulling him to his feet with ease.

Once again, Ryan’s looking at Gavin Free’s face.

He’s dressed down from their earlier meeting, swapped the gold for a simple black attire that almost mirrors Ryan’s own. His rings are gone, as are the glasses. His hair’s still messy, but that’s to be expected from the scuffle. He looks normal. He’d be unrecognisable, if it wasn’t for the fact his face had been haunting Ryan.

Ryan drops his hand quickly, gives a nod before turning to walk back to his car. His skin is on fire from where Gavin touched him.

‘Well hang on a second!’ The next thing Ryan knows, Gavin’s jogged up beside him, pain seemingly forgotten for the time being. ‘Couldn’t give us a lift could you?’

‘No.’

‘Come on. I know you were working for the Corprick but you’re not one of his, not like the others.’

Ryan stops at the mention of the crime boss and does a quick look around them to check if anybody heard. They’re alone.

‘We can be mates.’ Gavin’s smiling at him now, softer than the one he’d seen before.

 _Totally fucked, aren’t I?_ Ryan thinks, because that smile does things to his chest that almost replaces the unsettling feeling that sits in his stomach.

‘I could kill you,’ Ryan challenges.

‘Oh come off it, you wouldn’t do that. You’re lovely.’

Ryan hates him. He sighs. ‘Fine.’

Gavin beams. ‘Brill! Thank you, lovely- what’s your name?’

 _James._ ‘Ryan.’

‘Lovely Ryan.’

Ryan makes a face, considers killing Gavin right there outside the gas station, but he really didn’t want to be met with another empty grave.

So he ends up with the man he’s killed twice in his passenger seat, humming to the radio; diet coke tucked snuggly in the cup holder.

‘What did they want you for?’ He asks, trying to lace his voice with disinterest. Conversation was going to be more comfortable than hearing Gavin butcher another song.

The other man seems surprised that Ryan’s talking to him, but responds eagerly.

‘Robbed them didn’t I? Admittedly, I’m not very good yet,’ he grins, sheepish, and it’s the first time Ryan’s seen him somewhat embarrassed, ‘but it’s all about practice.’

That would explain the lack of skill when it came to robbing Ryan’s apartment.

‘Practice on easier targets,’ he suggests.

Gavin laughs. ‘Wasn’t the smartest choice I guess. That’s why I do all the talking, anyway.’

He shifts in the seat, brings a leg up to rest on the dashboard and then immediately removes it when he sees the look on Ryan’s face. ‘What about you then, lovely Ryan? Security?’

Scowling at the nickname, Ryan shakes his head. ‘Just a gunman, really.’

‘Mm, I think there’s more to you than that.’

‘I think there’s more to you than just a silver tongue.’

‘Thinking about my tongue, are you? You can pull over here.’

For the second time in 12 hours, Ryan feels his face heat up. He’s glad for the dim glow of the streetlights. Once the car is parked, Gavin opens the door and hops out. The cars automatic lights flick on. He turns back to Ryan, hand resting on top of the car door.

‘Thanks for being my saviour, the Kingpin will be eternally grateful,’ Gavin grins, speaking in the poshest voice he can.

‘Yeah, I’m starting to regret it,’ Ryan quips.

Gavin feigns hurt. ‘ _Ryan_ , that’s _mean_ , I thought you were lovely Rya-‘

‘Stop calling me that.’

‘What would you prefer? Ry? Rye-bread?’

Ryan frowns, laughing slightly. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Course it does.’

‘ _Get off_ of my car,’ Ryan strains, leaning as far as his seatbelt will allow him to swipe at Gavin; who dances out of reach and shuts the door.

The car falls into darkness, automatic lights flicking off now the door was closed, and Ryan can clearly see Gavin standing on the pavement, flipping him the bird. Ryan shakes his head and starts the engine. He most definitely _does not_ spend the journey home thinking of Gavin.

By the time he’s sitting on his own sofa, staring at his reflection in the dark of his living room window, he’s worked himself up a dilemma. On the one hand, Gavin was charming and attractive and whilst Ryan hardly knew him, there wasn’t a dislike towards the other man. On the other, he couldn’t get past the whole coming back from the dead thing, how it worked, or the awful void of an empty grave. Perhaps Gavin was more trouble than he was worth. Ryan wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed to never see Gavin Free again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Terrifying,' he says, breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil bit shorter than i'd like but i gotta be up in the morning nd i wanted to put something out!

Two weeks go by, and Ryan starts to think his prayers have been heard.

There’s no sign of Gavin – nobody tries to break into his house, he doesn’t show up on anymore jobs and if he’s been in one of the fights that Ryan’s seen, he certainly doesn’t intervene.

It’s peaceful, sometimes, but there’s some kind of feeling deep in his stomach that relates to Gavin. Anticipation, maybe.

It isn’t until a Saturday, early in the afternoon, that Ryan sees the man again.

He’s at the bank, because despite living in Los Santos, he believes it’s the safest place for money. Standing in line behind two women, he’s inspecting the many cat stickers placed on the back of the computer screen that the teller sits behind.

The doors open.

A gunshot rings out, followed by gasps and a scream and Ryan ducks automatically at the noise. Crouched, he spins on the balls of his feet to face the doors.

There’s Gavin – pistol pointed directly at the ceiling, flakes of vermiculite catching in his hair as they fall and behind him, the Kingpin.

Ryan can assume it is, anyway, with the perfectly tailored suit and diamond studded cufflinks.

The Kingpin is looking around with a rather unimpressed, tired look on his face. He’s thin; light stubble on his jaw and messy black hair. His hands, one of which is holding a shotgun over his shoulder, are covered in black ink that disappears past his sleeves.

Gavin shifts his aim to a security guard whose hand was slowly moving towards his belt. ‘Don’t do that, you’ll ruin the fun! Slide it over would you?’

The guard nods; a calm to him that looks trained and takes a weapon, a taser Ryan thinks, out of a pouch. He slowly kneels on the ground and sends it skidding along the floor to Gavin. Gavin catches it perfectly under his boot.

‘Thanks very much.’

The Kingpin steps forward then, lets the front doors close and shut them in before speaking.

‘Ladies, gentlemen, anything in between - I don’t really care – my name is Geoff Ramsey. I’m here for one thing only today, and that’s to take all your money,’ he smiles; is gesturing with the shotgun the whole time, ‘and when you leave here today, unharmed, do tell everyone you meet that it was the Fake Achievement Hunter Crew that robbed you. I’ll say that again, the Fake Achievement Hunter Crew. If you have a pen, feel free to write that one down.’

‘Tis quite a mouthful Geoffrey,’ Gavin chimes in.

‘I’ll give you a mouthful.’

Ryan has no idea what he’s watching unfold. If they’re aiming to leave an impression they’re doing a great job, he thinks.

Geoff is grinning at Gavin, who looks downtrodden at the suggestion, before he turns to look at the area Ryan is currently crouched in.

‘If all of you – yes that’s you two ladies and you, my good sir,’ the shotgun points directly at Ryan, ‘could kindly move away from there so I could speak to a teller.’

It’s an order, Ryan knows that underlying tone.

He rises slowly, and as he starts to move the two women beside him do the same; following his lead. His knees crack, the noise is deafening. When he walks to the other side of the room, where most people have huddled, he risks a glance at Gavin.

The other man is staring at him, a knowing grin on his face and a look in his eye that Ryan really wishes was directed at anyone else.

Geoff moves towards the glass barrier and Ryan turns his attention to him instead. When he gets there, he turns back to Gavin and flicks his head towards the gathering of people Ryan’s stood with. ‘Watch them.’

Gavin flicks his wrist and gestures with the pistol that’s still trained on the guard for him to move. Then the motherfucker comes and stands right in front of Ryan. He waggles his eyebrows.

Ryan hates him.

He looks good; dressed all in gold once more. Ryan suspects they’re trying to make a statement here, with the flashy outfits and the very obvious attempt at a heist in the middle of the day. He recognises the sunglasses that are folded up and inside his shirt pocket. There’s a nose ring that Ryan’s positive is fake.

He raises an eyebrow back; not amused.

Gavin frowns mockingly.

‘You don’t look very scared,’ he pouts like a child.

‘You’re not very scary,’ Ryan shoots back.

Gavin looks delighted. He feigns hurt, and then he steps close, so close that if they both inhaled deeply at the same time they’d be touching. Ryan can feel the muzzle of the gun pressed to his chest; right in front of his heart.

‘What about now?’

The entire bank is silent. Over Gavin’s shoulder, Geoff has stopped talking to watch. Ryan’s heart is hammering so loud he’s certain everyone can hear it.

‘Nope.’ He pops the P, tries to breathe in without it seeming shakey.

Gavin cocks the weapon. He leans in, presses their cheeks together and his skin is just as hot as Ryan’s face feels as he whispers into his ear.

‘And now?’

Ryan wants to scream. He’s torn between wanting to rip the gun from Gavin’s hands and shoot him or shoot himself. He swallows, locks eyes with Geoff from across the room and suddenly it’s all too much. He takes a step back, stands on the foot of someone behind him and drops his gaze to the floor.

‘Terrifying,’ he says, breathless.

There’s silence, Ryan’s holding his breath. He jumps when Geoff claps his hands and starts another charade.

‘Well folks! We got what we came for, nobody was hurt and you were all perfectly cooperative. Cooperative. That’s a fucking difficult word.’

Ryan flicks his eyes to Gavin.

He’s looking at him; sort of disappointed and when Ryan catches his eye he looks genuinely sorry.

Then the LSPD throw the bank doors open.

It all goes to hell so fast. Ryan throws himself to the floor the second bullets start flying. He slides on his jeans, gets himself to a corner and tucks his knees up to his chest before looking out at what’s happening.

People are scattered everywhere, laying with their hands over their heads. They’re screaming every time a gun goes off; which is every second.

Gavin’s on the floor. Blood cakes his outfit; matts his hair. His eyes are open. Ryan doesn’t think his chest is moving. The thought of a hot cheek against his own.

The gunfire continues, the Kingpin too occupied with shooting back to have noticed.

Ryan feels a sick sense of anticipation, kind of wants Gavin to be dead if it means he’ll be resurrected- _no_ , or whatever the hell happens will happen right here where he and other hostages can see. He just needs to see it happen, needs to know he’s not insane.

It’s at that moment that Geoff looks back over his shoulder whilst reloading and sees Gavin not moving. Ryan thinks he sees him curse, say something to the air and then he’s abandoning the fight to slide along the floor until he’s beside him. Trying to remain in cover, fire back and move Gavin’s body back towards an exit proves a slow and difficult process, especially with the shells raining down on him from different angles.

There’s a shot from outside; loud that rattles the front doors before they’re being thrown open once more and a man carrying another shotgun is entering the mix. He’s on the ginger side, a large beard covering his chin and glasses perched on his nose. He’s wearing an awful shirt. Ryan watches as the man is immediately loading shot after shot into any cop he can see.

Ryan’s so caught up in the moment, he doesn’t see Geoff slip out the backdoor with Gavin over his shoulder.

Just as quickly as he came, the man is backing up as he fires and Ryan can see a car parked right outside the doors. _So this must be the driver._ The driver makes it out, and Ryan can now see that Geoff is in the front of the car, yelling as he leans over to open the passenger side door. The driver gets round to the right side and climbs in. Then they’re gone.

The bank is silent, no more shots being fired or yelling of orders. Time doesn’t feel real, Ryan’s heart is racing. Gavin fills his mind.

After that intense interaction and the multiple people who ask if he’s okay and tell him how brave he was for standing up to the robbers like that, Ryan’s able to return home.

He flops down onto his sofa and after just sitting, neck bent over the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling, he places his hand on his face and then over his heart. When he showers that night, scrubbing his skin raw, he has to check twice that the muzzle of the gun isn’t branded into his skin.

Ryan stays home the next day; watches the news on his phone for a bit before turning it off because Gavin’s face is everywhere.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm a criminal, Ryan, I have connections.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well my uni was closed! so now im at home hopefully i'll have more time for writing.  
> hope ur all staying safe!! if ur gonna leave kudos, make sure u wash ur hands before AND after touching the button :))

One afternoon, there’s a knock at the door and when Ryan opens it he finds Gavin on his doorstep. He considers closing it.

Gavin looks exceptionally plain; his hairs flat, sporting a simple green hoodie and jeans. There’s no jewellery and when he smiles, it’s friendly and genuine.

‘You lost?’ Ryan asks.

‘Nah. You busy?’ The memory of Gavin’s breath hot in Ryan’s ear is at the front of his mind.

‘Yes,’ Ryan lies.

Then Gavin is slipping past him and into his apartment. ‘I’ll make this quick then.’

It’s odd, Gavin standing in his apartment alive; unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

‘I wanted to apologise for the bank,’ he starts, ‘I didn’t mean to, well, whatever that was. I thought we were just having fun, I wasn’t supposed to make you uncomfortable.’

He’s got his hands clasped together and Ryan hates how formal his voice sounds. It’s harder to read than the charm and sounds exactly like the hundreds of voices people have used when making deals.

Ryan’s still standing with his hand on the open front door, his body twisted to face his visitor. ‘It’s..it’s fine.’

It’s the only thing he can think to say.

‘I wasn’t uncomfortable, just,’ _being that close to you sparks something in me that I don’t understand_ , ‘it was an intense moment.’

Gavin’s mouth curls up on one side. ‘Intense?’

Ryan rolls his eyes. ‘You had a cocked gun pointed at me. Forgive me for feeling a little intimidated.’

‘ _You?_ Intimidated by _me?_ With those arms? Ryan, you’ll make a man blush.’ Just like that, Gavin’s back to his cat-like stare. Ryan can see the slight shift in his stance, the way one leg holds more of his weight than the other and the small twist of the neck.

He points to his door. ‘You can leave now.’

Gavin grins but does move towards the door. Once he’s on the other side he turns back to Ryan and smiles. ‘Meet me tonight, just for a walk.’

Ryan’s so disarmed by the waft of cologne that waves past him and the smile that he agrees without evening thinking about it.

The rest of the day is relatively uneventful.

Ryan has a job that takes up most of his time; another stand in with the Corpirate – look scary, say nothing. It goes off without a hitch.

The Corpirate talks a lot about the Fakes, which Ryan doesn’t understand at first until he hears Geoff's name and realises it’s a shortened version of the crews name. He talks, mostly because he doesn’t think Ryan is listening, about all the ways he could take them down. “A pathetic crew” he calls them, “weak and won’t amount to anything” he says. It angers Ryan, just a little.

Once he’s done he goes to the bank, no heists happen, he makes sure he was paid and then heads home.

He gets about an hour, of sitting on his sofa and staring at his ceiling before there’s a knock at the door again.

When he opens the door, a plastic bag of sliced bread is thrust into his face. Ryan bats it away and sees Gavin grinning behind it.

‘Have you come to make me a sandwich?’ He asks.

‘No _, Ryan_ , we’re going to feed the ducks!’

Ryan raises an eyebrow. ‘It’s dark out.’

Gavin scoffs. ‘So? Ducks don’t despawn when the sun turns off.’

‘There is so much about that sentence that I hate,’ Ryan pulls a jacket off his coat rack and steps out of his door, ‘and remind me again how you know where I live?’

‘I’m a criminal, Ryan, I have connections.’

In the end, Ryan turns out to be right about the ducks. They go to two ponds, a lake and an abandoned, drained swimming pool; all without ducks. Gavin’s mood decreases with every location, before spiking back up when he thinks of another.

A duckless bridge over a thin river is their last stop of the night.

Gavin leans as far over as he can, squinting his eyes in the dark.

‘Bloody waste of bread,’ he says as he stops pressing his stomach into the railing.

‘We could throw it anyway?’ Ryan suggests.

‘Brilliant idea,’ Gavin laughs and then he’s wasting no time in ripping open the bag and frisbeeing a slice of bread into the water.

They do that for a while. They try to see who can get theirs the furthest with a throw, drop the slices straight down and watch them race, Gavin even attempts to fold an airplane out of a piece. Eventually, when the slices start to float to a stop and sink, Gavin gags and turns away to face the other side of the water.

‘That’s disgusting,’ he coughs and Ryan laughs when he sees actual tears forming.

‘Wet bread? You rob banks and join a crew, but soggy bread is your downfall?’ He grins, highly amused.

Gavin coughs again. ‘Don’t even say the words-’

‘This was your idea!’

‘And we never robbed that bank.’

Ryan frowns, still laughing. ‘Yeah, you did. Geoff Ramsey spoke to the woman behind the glass and..’

Gavin’s wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks towards Ryan when he hears him trail off.

‘And took nothing. We didn’t even bring a bag for the money, it was all a publicity thing.’

The more Ryan thinks about it, the more he realises. Geoff hadn’t been carrying a bag on his way in, definitely hadn’t been carrying one on his way out.

‘Huh.’

Gavin smiles, takes another slice of bread from the bag and starts ripping it up. He carefully balances the pieces along the railing. Ryan watches. When the wind blows, they both stand with baited breath and watch as the pieces shift, but don’t fall.

‘You wanna hear something weird?’ Gavin asks, not taking his eyes from the abstract art piece he’s creating.

Ryan shrugs. ‘Sure.’

Gavin places the final piece of bread and looks up and down the row he’s created before leaning close and gently blowing them all into the water. They make no noise as they hit the surface and travel upstream. He looks nervous, and when he speaks it’s like he’s hinting at a confession. It’s a good look.

‘Sometimes,’ Gavin begins, hands going deep in his pockets and eyes focused down on the water below, ‘sometimes I feel like I’ve been alive for hundreds of years.’

He shifts his gaze to Ryan. ‘That’s weird, init?’

Ryan shakes his head. ‘No, Gavin. Makes perfect sense, actually.’

‘It does?’

Everything he’d seen and heard comes to the front of his mind, and suddenly Ryan remembers that he’s not standing next to a normal man. It had frightened him before, and his presence had caused feelings Ryan couldn’t explain before but he realises now that he _likes_ Gavin. It was a fondness building because he enjoyed his, somewhat intense, company. He still can’t explain what’s happening to the lad, or if he’s even aware of his constant coming back to life, but he’s not so bad when he’s being genuine.

Yet, at the same time, Ryan couldn’t help but like the mask that goes on when the sunglasses hit Gavin’s face. Somehow, Gavin manages to be perfectly charming in every sense of the word. He’s magnetic in his presence, gorgeous smiles and perfectly placed hair, but at the same time he’s tired, blinking eyes and soft grins. Being around Gavin, Ryan starts to realise, is like experiencing every enjoyable thing at once. It’s the feeling of your hands wrapping around a hot mug on a cold day, of eyelashes fluttering on your cheek. The first fall of snow and the first rising sunflower. The voice of someone you like hot in your ear.

‘Yeah, it does.’

Gavin smiles, so softly Ryan almost goes weak at the knees. Then he scrunches up his face and the moment passes. ‘When did you learn my name was Gavin? I didn’t tell you that.’

‘I-‘ Ryan goes blank, because it had been Meg that had researched and found his name, ‘it was on the news.’

It’s not really a lie, because he _was_ on the news, and Gavin eats it right up. He gasps.

‘The news? Was I on the news? For the heist?’ He’s bouncing like a child, close to clapping his hands together.

Ryan nods. ‘You and Geoff both were, you didn’t see?’

‘We don’t want to watch it in case they say mean things,’ Gavin explains.

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘No it’s not.’

The pair start walking again, debating over the ridiculousness of the situation until they’ve ended up back on Ryan’s doorstep. They look at each other, Gavin holding his almost empty bread packet and Ryan reaching into his pocket for his key.

‘Are you- is there anywhere I can drive you?’ Ryan asks, because he’s had a good time tonight and doesn’t really want it to end.

‘Nah, we’d have to kill you if you knew our location,’ Gavin declines smoothly.

‘Well you’ve already pointed a gun at me, so make sure you finish the job next time,’ Ryan chides, turning to unlock his door and push it open.

‘Ryan, how long are you gonna be stuck on that?’

‘Til I die.’

‘Soon then.’

Ryan steps into his apartment and turns back around. ‘Good, means I won’t have to put up with you much longer.’

Gavin’s mouth drops open and he whines. ‘I’m gonna break into your room and _make you_ deal with me.’

_Please don’t_ , Ryan thinks, because he knows how that ends.

‘Don’t threaten _me_ with a good time,’ he quickly fires back.

It makes a nice change, to get to watch the way Gavin’s face turns pink. His jaw snaps closed and he blinks.

Ryan smirks. ‘Get off my property.’

‘Absolutely,’ Gavin agrees, taking a few steps away from the door, ‘goodnight, Ryan.’

‘Goodnight Gavin.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So that’s how he ends up sitting round a table with Geoff Ramsey, Jack Pattillo – the driver from the bank, Gavin Free and a man by the name of Michael Jones.

‘The Corpirate talks about you, you know,’ Ryan says one day, when they’re both on his couch. Gavin, with his legs on Ryan’s lap and his shoulders leaning against the armrest, is lounging, while Ryan sits very still and tries to control his hands.

‘I can’t believe you still take jobs from that man. You’d do much better in our crew,’ Gavin says, before necking a can of red bull.

‘That an invitation?’ Ryan asks, voice calm and almost uninterested despite the nerves already building.

Gavin swallows, grimaces and crushes the can in his fist. ‘It’s a ‘Geoff wants to meet the assassin I’ve been telling him so much about and see if he’s worthy’. So yes, kind of.’

Ryan rolls his eyes. ‘Have you really told him I’m an assassin?’

‘What would _you_ call yourself?’ Gavin grins - Cheshire cat like.

‘A gun for hire.’

‘What’s the difference?’

Another roll of the eyes.

Gavin suddenly shifts, sliding his legs off Ryan’s knees and leaning forward to kneel on the sofa. He’s looking at Ryan with deeply sad eyes and his face is so close that when he speaks, Ryan can smell the energy drink on his breath.

‘Would you meet him? Just meet him, please?’

Maybe it’s the closeness, or how fond Ryan finds himself of the way Gavin says please.

‘Okay.’

So that’s how he ends up sitting round a table with Geoff Ramsey, Jack Pattillo – the driver from the bank, Gavin Free and a man by the name of Michael Jones.

‘Jones is newish,’ Gavin would explain to him on their way towards the meeting room, ‘gun for hire like yourself with an expertise in explosives. We’ve had him a few days now. Wicked temper sometimes, so just be your lovely, lovely self and this’ll go smoothly.’

Ryan pulls a face. ‘Ramsey’s hired this guy?’

‘We’ve been watching him for years – he’s good. Brilliant even, he told me he made a crack pot bomb once and it saved his life.’

‘Sounds brilliant,’ Ryan says dryly as Gavin pulls the doors open.

He’s seated next to Jack, across from Gavin and diagonal to Jones.

For the most part, Jones listens intently to Geoff’s plan, but when Gavin makes a sly comment, when he leans in, fingers on Jones’ shoulder pulling him back, to whisper a secretive remark, the man practically glows. He cackles, grin full of teeth, and twists his head to look at Gavin.

Ryan kind of hates him.

‘So, thoughts?’ Geoff turns to the group when he’s done. He’s holding a pointer finger in his hands. It’s almost comical.

There’s a round of nods and agreement.

‘Great!’ Geoff claps his hands together before looking directly towards Ryan. ‘You do work for the Corpirate, right?’

Ryan’s blood runs slightly cold, and he nods.

‘That’s fun. We can use that later. Just means we’ll need to hide your identity for now,’ he says like its obvious.

‘Halloween store mask?’ Jack jokes.

‘Wait, we’re actually doing this?’ Ryan asks, slightly shocked.

Geoff raises an eyebrow and glances towards Gavin. ‘You think I told you all of that for the fun of it?’

‘I- It- I thought this was just a..meeting.’ Confused, and a little annoyed for reasons he had no explanation for, Ryan throws Gavin a look.

Gavin simply shrugs, feigning innocence, before looking away because Jones has wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in to whisper more secrets.

‘You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. This can just an introductory meeting,’ Jack suggests, kindness laced in his tone. Geoff nods.

Ryan looks at the way Jones and Gavin are sitting, arms touching, heads leaned close together as they murmur. He thinks about how Jones is already in the crew.

‘No, let’s do it.’

Geoff grins. ‘Brilliant. Three days.’

Three days.

‘You’re avoiding me,’ Gavin states when Ryan wakes up the day before the heist to find him in his living room.

‘Stop breaking into my apartment,’ Ryan avoids, while taking the coffee that Gavin holds out to him.

‘You say that like I do it all the time,’ Gavin grins.

Ryan can see him lying on the floor, blood matted in his hair.

‘Just stop it.’

Something in his tone must suggest anger, as Gavin’s grin drops and he stands up.

‘Okay. Did I do something, Ryan?’ He asks, and the worried tinge of his voice almost wipes Ryan clean out.

‘Oh no, you were just too busy obsessing over Jones to tell me that it was more than a meeting, that we were pulling a job,’ he says, sour. He kind of surprises himself by how worked up he is.

The concerned look on Gavin’s face lasts a few seconds before he’s positively beaming.

‘You call him Jones that is _so_ cute.’

‘Well what do you call him?’ Ryan asks, venom hot on his tongue.

‘Michael,’ Gavin gloats.

Ryan sets the coffee mug on the counter with more force than necessary. ‘Wonderful.’

‘You’re jealous,’ Gavin states plainly.

‘I am _not_ jealous,’ Ryan counters, but he can feel the way his face burns.

‘I got you something,’ Gavin says, seeming to ignore Ryan’s anger as he moves back towards the couch. Ryan watches with bored eyes as he unzips his bag and pulls out a mask. He walks back towards Ryan and holds it out.

It’s a matte black, beautifully made, with a white design. The white looks like smoke in the form of a grinning skull. Ryan takes it, turns it over in his hands. He runs his fingers over the stitching and the holes for his eyes. Looking at the mask, all of his anger fizzles into nothing.

‘I had it custom made,’ Gavin continues when Ryan says nothing, ‘thought you could pretend to be all cool and mysterious and then only I’d know what you really are.’

He comes close, takes the mask and bends the material to show the writing on the inside of the neck line.

‘Lovely Ryan,’ Ryan murmurs.

‘Do you like it?’

Ryan nods. He swallows and tears his eyes away from the mask to look at Gavin. ‘I love it. Thank you, Gavin.’

Gavin smiles before collecting his bag and heading for the door. ‘You’re welcome. And tomorrow, as we’re setting up; look at Michael. Really _look_ at him.’

He leaves before Ryan can say anything.

When Ryan tries the mask on in the mirror that night, he doesn’t think of how terrifying he looks or of the events that will take place tomorrow. He thinks of the words pressed into the back of his neck, and the voice that he hears them in.

Jones, it turns out, is married.

‘How’s Lindsay?’ Jack asks him as the three of them load back-up weapons into the car that would serve as their get-away vehicle.

‘She’s sick,’ he replies, ‘barely survived laser tag the other weekend. I had to keep checking on her, and then I shot her for points.’

He’s grinning, still full of teeth but there’s something much softer in it now.

Sure enough, there’s a bright, golden band wrapped around his ring finger that Ryan hadn’t noticed before. It reflects the light as his hands move, checking the clips of each of the weapons.

 _I_ , he thinks, _am a jealous fool._

‘Laser tag is a serious game,’ he comments.

Jones raises an eyebrow at his input, as Ryan hadn’t been spoken more than a curt ‘hello’ to him since they met, but doesn’t seem put off.

‘Which is exactly why I had to use her for points.’

‘It was the merciful thing to do.’

Jones grins again, slow.

Ryan places the box of ammo he was moving into the trunk of the car before turning back towards the other man. He holds out a hand. ‘Ryan Haywood. We didn’t really get introduced.’

‘Michael Jones,’ he takes his hand and the grip is crushing.

It’s at this moment that Geoff and Gavin enter the garage. Gavin must catch the end of this interaction, as he looks at Ryan and grins in an I-told-you-so kind of fashion.

‘I’ll kill you,’ Ryan mouths silently.

Before Ryan’s threat can really settle in, Geoff is clapping his hands together. It’s a common action with him, Ryan notices.

‘Right then fakes,’ _fakes_ , Ryan thinks, and something in him warms, ‘let’s _really_ rob a bank.’

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr as sig-nifier!  
> check out the other writing ive thrown into the void, if u wish


End file.
